Grown so Ugly
by Last0things
Summary: From the end of episode 8x23 onwards. CHAP. 4: BACK TO BLOOD PART 2: Sam and Dean make it back to the bunker with Crowley. Cas is lost and afraid, but may have made a friend. Sam is keeping a huge secret from Dean. He's certain he's going to die, but will that matter when Abaddon steps in to complicate things? No slash or pairings. Spoilers for 8x23. Rated M for language.
1. Feels Like We Only Go Backwards

** Hi, people who might read this! I hope you enjoy this story. This is not my first fic, but it is my first Supernatural fic, so I hope things go over well enough. I have read a lot of fic before, so I know most people don't read this part. So, I'm going to shut up soon, promise :)**

**First of all, no, you may not hunt me down and kill me in a creative manner because of my cliffhangers. That's how I write and I do not deserve to die because of it.**

**Second, if you read my ROTG fic, I'm sorry but I'm probably never going to update again. I love you, bebe, and I'm sorry I'm a horrible person. I'm gonna try to do better about the whole horrible person thing in the future, but it's probably not gonna work. I do sell things for a living, after all.**

**Third-ly, I love reviews and I most likely will respond, because I am friendly as shit. So reviewing will probably result in interpersonal communication of some kind. You have been warned.**

**Catorce, enjoy, and know that I love you for always for reading!  
**

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There was a warm, fresh pool of blood on the desk, but he didn't care. Metatron pushed Naomi's corpse out of it's rightful seat with a careless flick of his arm. He sat, interlacing his hands on the desk, blood soaking into his sleeves.

"There's going to be some fascinating new stories to tell now." he chuckled. "Stories with more suffering than any told before. And the Winchesters thought I didn't care about suffering. I absolutely love it." he allowed a laugh, but only a soft one. He didn't want to be the crazy, laughing villain in this story, after all.

**xXx**

"What?!" Sam Winchester gasped. He was in a hell of a lot of pain, but that didn't stop him from being more than a little shocked.

"I said the angels are falling!" Dean repeated, this time with urgency. "W-we gotta go. We need to get back. Can you stand?".

"Don't know." Sam muttered. Dean proceeded to try to pull him to his feet. He inhaled sharply and fell back against the impala. "Nope! Nope, can't." he managed.

"Come on, little brother, we gotta get you home." Dean wrapped an arm around his back once again. He eased him into a more vertical position, with a bit more care this time. Sam still didn't seem to appreciate the movement, curling in on himself and gasping the whole way. After several moments of fumbling with the handle, Dean finally got the back door of the impala open. He eased Sam into the seat, glancing behind all the while. Lights still flared and shot through the sky toward earth. He grimaced.

By the time Sam was settled in the back, sprawled across both seats and legs still hanging out the door, he was nearly out from the pain alone. His head lolled against the window. Still, he was trying to tell Dean something.

"What's that, buddy?" Dean asked, leaning into the cab.

"Crowley. Can't leave him."

"We sure as hell can. I'm a little more concerned about you, thanks." he replied.

"No. I... I did this to him. I was supposed to cure him. But couldn't. He... he wanted it, Dean. Wanted to be forgiven. L-like me." Sam gasped in-between labored breaths. His eyes had that pleading look that always made Dean so uncomfortable. Ever since they were kids.

"Alright, alright. You just calm down, okay. Just worry about yourself for now. I'll get Crowley." Dean reassured, reaching in to pat him on the shoulder. He let his brother fold his legs into the car, then closed the door. Turning, he strode toward the church, not sure what he would find inside.

"Okay, Crowley, you're coming with me! And there's not gonna be any bullshit! I'm already up to my eyes in... are you crying?!" Dean had slammed open the doors of the abandoned chapel, face screwed into his typical scowl. The look on his face now was more of an atypical mask of disbelief.

"Not really." the demon sniffed. "Mostly something in my eye. The words you said to your brother were just touching, is all." he sniffed again, and his face quivered.

"You are crying. Seriously? Seriously?! Crying, Crowley?! Come on!" Dean threw up his arms in disbelief and disgust. And maybe just a little defeat. After all, if Crowley was crying, it really was the end of the world.

"You truly are so much like your brother." Crowley murmured, smiling. But not in his usual way. A real smile for once. "Is Sam okay? He didn't look good when the two of you rushed out."

"And now you're concerned. Creepy." Dean grunted. He moved forward and began undoing the shackles that bound Crowley's wrists. "Look, the only reason I'm letting you out of here is for Sam. If it were up to me, you'd rot in that chair. Sam wanted me to save you." he growled.

"I owe your brother. So very much. He showed me... my many shortcomings." Crowley's eyes looked wet again, and Dean wasn't quite sure what to say. He decided to just resort to lowering his head and pretending he didn't notice. Emotional Crowley spooked him more than normal, asshole Crowley.

Something crashed against the earth outside. The church shook. Dean swore under his breath, thinking of his ailing brother outside. His thoughts wandered briefly to his missing friend, the one with the knack for being used. He forced his thoughts back to the situation at hand. No use worrying about that. Castiel had either betrayed them, or, more likely, was dead. Both options hurt, but somewhere deep down, Dean hoped he had betrayed them. The other option hurt more.

He finally undid the last ankle shackle and handcuffed Crowley to himself again. Crowley didn't object this time, didn't try to punch him in the face. He just gave him a look of gratitude that made his skin crawl. He rushed out, back to the car, ignoring the fact that he was nearly dragging the demon behind him. Crowley stumbled along, sore and meek, thinking that to be drug by Dean Winchester was probably the least of what he deserved.

They climbed into the car, Dean pushing Crowley across as he climbed into the driver's seat. Sam moaned in the backseat as another crash sounded outside.

"Okay, Sam?" Dean asked, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. His complexion was even more ghostly now, his eyes sunken into his head. They were screwed shut, and his teeth were clenched in pain.

"You stay with me, you hear?" Dean commanded. He heard Crowley sniff from the seat beside him. He, too, was looking back at Sam, his face a mask of worry.

"I'm sorry, Sam." he said in an eerily grave voice.

Dean rolled his eyes. He felt like telling him to shut the hell up and worry about his own problems, that this was his fault, but refrained for Sam's sake.

He turned the key in the ignition and the car and radio roared to life. He forgot how loud he had had the radio cranked before turning the car off. The Who's _Won't Get Fooled Again_ screamed from the speakers. Literally screamed, as that was the part of the song they had managed to land on.

_ 'Meet the new boss,_

_Same as the old boss.'_

"Dean..." Sam moaned from the back, curling further in on himself.

"I hear ya, Sammy. Not what I want to listen to right now, either." Dean agreed as he pulled out of the churchyard. He turned down the volume to a low drone and skipped to the next station, a pop station. Some women with a low voice was crooning:

_ 'Let the sky fall_  
_ when it crumbles_  
_ we will stand tall...'_

"Nope!" Dean said, smashing the skip button.

The radio landed on another classic rock station. Van Halen rang from the speakers and Dean relaxed back into the seat.

_'Runnin' with the Devil_  
_ Runnin' with the Devil'_

"I wonder why your kind are so fascinated with singing about the Devil, as they call him. Do they not realize that he hates them with a passion they can hardly begin to fathom? That he only longs to see them burn in hell for separating him from his father?" Crowley mused from beside him. Dean groaned.

"My brother is dying in the backseat and the sky is literally falling. Can't we do this some other time?" he forced through clenched teeth. Crowley shrunk back into the seat like a scolded child.

"Just trying to make casual chitchat." he muttered.

**xXx**

Castiel rubbed at his eyes, confused. Why were they wet? This vessel didn't normally leak. Jimmy Novak had been an excellent man, and was an even better vessel. Cas far preferred him to any other vessel he had ever used. Yet now he was leaking, and his chest was aching in the worst way. The forest around him was spinning. The vessel's legs failed and he fell to the ground.

The lights rained from the sky around him. All he could do was watch as his eyes leaked and his chest hurt. His family was suffering. His connection to them was failing, but the suffering was so strong that he could still feel it. It rang against the inside of his mind and made him shake all over. It was such a deep yet sharp cry of remorse.

He wasn't sure how long he remained that way, but something eventually reminded him that he had to stand again. That not all the world was lost, even if his brothers and sisters were. He still had two brothers out there that he had not betrayed. And that was how he saw them now, more than ever. Sam and Dean had always insisted on calling him a brother, but Cas had never really felt the same connection before. Until now. Now they seemed to be the only home he had to return to.

He trudged through the trees, his legs weighing so much more than they had before. Somewhere deep down he realized why he felt more of a connection to the ill-fated brothers now. It was his humanity. His connection to his other brothers and sisters dying rapidly, the human connection he had made to the Winchesters seemed to be growing.

Cas found the road and followed it. Headlights came and went, but none of the cars following them was the familiar black car he had come to love. His mind went to Dean, then Sam, and his chest clenched even harder. He remembered the trouble Sam had been in, and he silently asked his father for the hundredth time to look after the youngest Winchester. He didn't think his father heard him anymore, or maybe he just didn't care to get involved. But Dean would've wanted him to ask anyway. Actually, Dean would've wanted him there, as an angel, so he could save Sam himself. That was really what Cas wanted himself.

He felt the anger roar up the inside of his throat. It wasn't the righteous anger he usually experienced. It was a helpless anger. He wanted to destroy Metatron so badly, but there was no way he could do it now. He should've been there to help Sam and Dean. He should never have been doing Metatron's stupid "trials". He should've been on Earth with his two human brothers. He should've helped Dean save Sam. He should still be an angel, because that was the only real way he could help them. He shouldn't have been so stupid.

The anger was so helpless and depressing and engulfing that Castiel recognized it for what it was: his first bout of human anger. He hated it, and he hated himself. He hated being human and being useless and so...

Hungry. Cas's stomach made a strange noise and he glanced down at it. He was so shaky. But there was nothing to eat in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night.

He trudged onward, arms hanging limp at his side. It started to rain. Cas's vessel's eyes started to leak again.

**xXx**

Dean pulled up near the Batcave in the early hours of the morning. It was still dark outside, but the first hints of light were showing in the sky. He was grateful to be back. The car ride had been near unbearable. Crowley, with his new found sense of humanity, had attempted to make idle conversation the whole way. Dean had been in no mood. Sam had eventually drifted off, and spent the ride in and out of painful consciousness.

Dean glanced in the rearview mirror every other minute. Truth be told, he was waiting. Waiting like he had been waiting for so long. Ever since Sam's life had been placed in his hands when they were both young. He was waiting for his younger brother's chest to stop rising and falling.

Thankfully, Sam held on. Dean knew he was white-knuckling it, but at least he was still clinging to life, somehow. Sam seemed to have developed a talent for living through things that would kill most others.

Dean unfolded himself from the car, dragging Crowley out with him. He stretched, then stomped over to the door into the bunker. His legs didn't seem to appreciate the sudden use and his body ached from the long drive and all the stress. He felt older than he could ever remember having felt.

"Kevin! Open up!" he yelled, pounding on the door. No response. He growled, then began knocking even harder.

"Kevin! I swear to whatever asshat is in charge these days, I'll end you if you don't open the fuck up!" he called.

"Allow me, Dean." Crowley said, stepping forward. He extended a hand in front of him, in a rather calm and lazy way, really. The door shot open as though it had been kicked by Dean himself. And Dean didn't screw around when he kicked open a door.

"One of the perks of being the King of Hell. You might say there are no closed doors." Crowley said with a smile. But still not his usual smile. This smile was rueful, like some part of him regretted being the King, and he was just really happy to be able to help. Dean didn't see how that was possible, though.

"You have no idea how happy I am to know you can do that." Dean said, voice flat. Crowley either didn't notice the sarcasm, or pretended not to notice it. Dean wasn't sure how to deal with this new, sarcasm-free Crowley, so he just shut up.

"Kevin!" he roared into the bunker. All of the lights were on, which he found strange and a bit worrying. He pulled the gun from his waist band and crept into the bunker with it raised, Crowley slinking along beside him. Images of Metatron popping by to finish off the poor prophet kept flashing through his head.

"Maybe he left." Crowley whispered. Dean shushed him.

"He wouldn't." he said.

They crept further into the lair, until Dean glanced down at their giant 'map-table' on the second floor. Kevin was sitting next to it, or rather, was passed out onto it.

"Kevin!" Dean called. When the prophet didn't respond, he rushed down to him, dragging Crowley in his wake.

"Kevin, wake up! Talk to me!" he feared the worst, feared that Metatron had visited Kevin to tie up lose ends. But when he shook him, the kid stirred.

"Hunh?" he mumbled, not opening his eyes to look at Dean.

"What's the matter with you?! Didn't you hear me knocking? Threatening to kill you? Anything?" Dean demanded.

"D'n? But you're dead." Kevin muttered, cracking his eyes open a fraction to look up at him.

"Seriously, what's wrong with you?" it was only then that Dean noticed the glass and empty bottles around Kevin, decorating the glowing map.

"You're drinking! The world is ending and you decide to get drunk?!" he yelled into Kevin's confused face.

"That's what you're supposed to do. 'Cause everyone's dead, so why not?" Kevin laughed.

"I don't know what movie you think you're in. Last time I checked, this wasn't _The Hangover: Part_ 'Hell on fucking Earth'!" Dean groaned. Kevin just snickered.

"You need to pull yourself together. Sam's in trouble and I need your help, okay? So drink some water and get it together." Dean ordered. Kevin stared at him, as evenly as he could.

"_Fuck_ you." he said. "You're not my mom, Dean. Mom's dead. You're dead, Sam... dead. Everyone dead because all the lights... everything lit up and we're all gonna die!" he laughed again, then the laughter turned to sobs. "Everyone's dead. Y-you're dead and Sam. All the lights came on and I thought you died. Everything's shit, Dean. All of it, shit. Shit shit shit..." Kevin continued to sob into Dean's shirt, one arm wrapped around his neck, until he went back to sleep.

"Poor kid." Crowley mourned behind him. Dean, who was already hoisting Kevin into his arms, turned to glower at Crowley.

"Who do you think made things so hard for him? Who do you think made everything shit for him? It wasn't Metatron, that's for damn sure!" he rounded on him. Crowley shrank back a bit, looking down at his hands. "Who do you think murdered the poor kid's mother?!" he asked.

"I did not. I can never begin to ask for Kevin Tran's forgiveness, but I did not murder his mother. I merely told him that to distract him a bit." Crowley replied.

"Dis-distract him a 'bit'? He went off the deep end!" Dean's voice cracked under the exhaustion and stress. He remembered Sam in the impala and tried to put things back into some priority.

"Look, I'm putting the kid to bed. When he wakes up, you're gonna help him find his mom. Clear?" he ordered.

"As vodka." Crowley nodded.

"Good." Dean growled. He glanced down at the table. Red lights glowed all over the map. He glanced around and noticed that practically every sensor in the room was glowing. No wonder Kevin had thought he and Sam were dead. It must have looked like the whole world outside was dead.

Dean stopped to handcuff Crowley to the leg of the table. He didn't believe it would hold him if he really wanted to leave, but at least there was some pretense of control.

"Stay." he commanded, pointing at the ground emphatically.

"Really, Dean? I'm a demon, not a dog." Crowley sighed, a bit of his old sarcasm shining through without it's usual bite.

"Same difference." Dean muttered under his breath. Crowley just replied with a look of exhaustion and remorse.

Dean found an empty, fairly comfortable room and deposited Kevin on the cot. As he placed him, Kevin muttered in his sleep and woke up a bit. He looked up at Dean for a second.

"Thanks, D'n. Glad you're not dead." he mumbled.

"Well, glad you're not dead, too, Kev." Dean shrugged, not sure what to say. Not dead was as good as a compliment in their field, wasn't it?

"You're like my big brother sometimes." Kevin mumbled into his pillow.

"Uh, thanks." Dean grunted, then exited the room as fast as possible. He was too tired for this shit.

When he got to the car, Sam was still out in the backseat. He climbed into the front and leaned over the seat, nudging him.

"Sammy? Come on, Sammy. Wakey, wakey, beer and jerky." he said, shaking his brother gently, but urgently, nonetheless. Sam didn't seem to notice, either way.

"Sam? Come on, wake up! Sammy?" he shook harder, but still no response. Something went tight in his chest. Sam was too still. "Hey, come on. Don't do this to me, little brother. You're okay. Come on, Sammy!" Dean waited, breath tearing out from behind clenched teeth. His hand was gripping Sam's shirt much too tight. "Come on, come on, come on..." he repeated in a whisper to himself, shaking Sam with each repetition.

He used what little morning light he had to look for the rise and fall of his little brother's chest. The same thing he had been looking after since he was four. The world might end, but Sammy still needed to be alive at the end of the day. He remembered how, months after his mother had died, he had gone to Sam's crib. He had checked, just to make sure. After all, if mom could die after Dean told her goodnight, so could Sammy. He would sit and watch. Then he would start talking. Only in a whisper, never enough to actually wake his baby brother. But Sammy was the only one he would talk to. Dean never talked anymore, but he would talk to Sammy. He would explain things, tell him why mom wasn't around anymore. Sometimes he would cry. But most of the time he wouldn't, 'cause he was supposed to set an example. And Sam cried enough for the both of them. But mostly, he promised Sam things. He promised that nothing was going to happen to him, because he was his older brother.

"Everything's going to be alright, Sammy." Dean promised, leaning over the front seat of the the impala. "I let some things happen to you, but I'm gonna fix it. I promise."

In the small bit of light that fought it's way through the windows, Dean saw Sam's chest rise, then fall. He said something unintelligible in his sleep, and tried to roll away.

Dean hated chick-flick moments. Even so, he really couldn't stop the single tear that worked its way out of his eye and down his face. He was just so damn tired. But happy.

_TBC_

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**Okay, for clarity's sake, I'm naming things after song titles in this fic because the show does that a lot. The show does it with a lot of classic rock songs. I do listen to classic rock, but not enough to name a bunch 'o shit after it. So I'm just gonna use song titles that I like. Then you can go google them because my music taste is fucking amazing.**


	2. Regroup

**Here's chapter 2! Thanks for those who followed, favorited, and reviewed before! Hope you enjoy, and drop me a review if you have the time. Suggestions are welcome :)**

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Castiel quickly found out that walking everywhere wasn't so fun. His vessels legs weren't accustomed to prolonged walking, for one thing. And he was still so hungry. His legs were... shaky. And weak. He was reminded of how much he hated being human.

Another pair of headlights passed, and he had an idea. Stopping on the side of the road, he extended a thumb upward and stuck out his arm. He had seen this in some movie that Dean had been watching in a motel room. Cas hadn't liked the movie. It had featured monsters like Sam and Dean hunted, but weirder looking than the real monsters. It was supposed to be scary, but he didn't find it very scary. Dean didn't really seem to, either, as he fell asleep halfway through.

Cas kept his thumb extended, pointing upwards. He wondered why this expression made cars stop. Dean had also said it meant good luck. He didn't really understand how it meant either of those things. It was a thumb. Humans were strange to assign so much meaning to a thumb.

A pair of headlights eventually slowed to a stop in front of him. They were attached to an eighteen wheeler. The cab door opened above him, and an overweight man leaned out.

"Come on around and hop in, brother." the man said with a smile. Castiel rounded the front of the tractor and climbed up, his legs still aching.

"How ya doin, man? Name's Bill Jackson." Bill was jolly looking, something like the American interpretation of the St. Nicholas myth. But Bill had dark hair, and a cap that was crammed down onto his head. He held out his hand expectantly. Castiel stuck out his own hand and allowed Bill to shake it.

"You got a name?" Bill asked, starting back down the road.

"My name is Castiel." Cas replied.

"That Russian or something?"

"It is Enochian." Cas answered, a bit put off by the questions.

"Enochian? You must be from some crazy country, pal. What's your last name?" Bill continued to question, oblivious to Cas's discomfort.

"Um, Winchester." he mumbled, not being able to think of a better answer.

"Castiel Winchester? Hell of a name. So, um, do you mind if I call you Cas?" Bill asked. Cas shook his head, gazing out the window. He definitely wouldn't be the first to

call him Cas.

"So, Cas,where ya headed?" Bill asked.

"Kansas." he replied.

"Kansas?!" Bill laughed, "You're a good ways away from Kansas. You're in Georgia, Dorothy. Out in the middle of nowhere, too. Don't know who dropped ya here, but they must've wanted to screw ya over."

"The one who 'dropped me here' has 'screwed over' not only myself, but all of my brethren as well. It is not a laughing matter!" Cas grumbled.

"Easy, guy, I wasn't trying to make light of the situation. Got anybody you can call?" Bill raised a hand in defense.

"I do, but I... I cannot remember the number." Cas looked down at his lap, embarrassed. Several hours ago, he had been able to recall every important number combination in existence. Now one ten number combination escaped him.

"It's all good, buddy. I'm sure you'll find a way to reach your people." Bill reassured. Cas nodded silently, then gazed back out the window.

The minutes crept by, and Bill eventually made a low, coughing sound in the back of his throat.

"So, Cas, whadya do?" he asked.

"Do?" Cas echoed.

"You know, what's your profession?" Bill's bushy eyebrow's shot up in expectation.

"I am an angel of the lord." Cas replied, matter-of-factly.

"Uh, is that like one of those secret cult things? You something like a Shriner? Or do you mean you ride in one of those gangs?" Bill asked.

"Ride what?" Cas deadpanned.

"Never mind." Bill mumbled.

"I was a soldier in the garrison. I was responsible for protecting many souls." Cas stated.

"Oh! You were a soldier! Now I get it. But _angel_? Do you mean you were part of the Air Force?" Bill continued his stream of questions.

"I could fly, so yes. We often used the air to our tactical advantage." he gave a quick smile, then turned again to stare out the window.

"Well then, it's an honor to have a former soldier riding with me. Glad I could help you out, seeing as how you been protecting this country for so long. You been keepin' us free and under God." Bill pumped Cas's hand again, this time with more excitement.

Cas smiled and shook back. He liked this human. He really seemed to understand his motivations. He began to think the long ride might not be so unbearable.

**xXx**

Crowley wasn't aware of having dozed off, but he was definitely aware once Dean Winchester started shaking him like a rag doll.

"Get up. I need your help." he ordered in his customary growl.

"Did you see to Sam? Is he alright?" Crowley queried.

"Dude, stop with the fake concern. You're creeping me out." Dean spat.

"My question was entirely legitimate. I am worried about Sam. As I said, I am in his debt." Crowley replied, trying to blink some of the weariness out of his eyes.

"Well, you wanna pay 'em back, start by not smoking out once I take these cuffs off." Dean looked at him expectantly.

"On my word." Crowley promised.

"Alright." Dean grunted. He really didn't want to take the chance, but he was left with few other options. He couldn't get Sam inside without some help. Well, without banging him around too much. And Kevin was definitely down for a few hours. Crowley was all he had left.

Dean undid the cuff attached to the table, but left the other around Crowley's wrist. Crowley looked a little hurt, but didn't say anything. Dean got the eeriest feeling, like he needed to apologize to Crowley for the over-precaution. He shuddered at the thought of apologizing to Crowley.

The two trudged out into the early light and opened up the back door of the impala closest to Sam's head. Dean scooped his brother out, wrapping one long arm over his shoulders. Crowley took the other, and Sam's head hung limp in the middle. They shuffled back to the door, his feet dragging in the dirt behind them. One of his shoes was untied, and came off as they climbed the stairs.

"I'll have to come back out and grab that after we get him in a bed. He'll be whining about losing his shoe again." Dean laughed.

"What?" Crowley asked.

"It's nothing." Dean answered, already sobering up. The heat coming off of Sam's skin was brutal, and he really didn't have time to be laughing at old jokes.

He and Crowley managed to get gigantor inside and in the bed in his room. Dean then dismissed Crowley, telling him to go do whatever the hell demons did in their downtime. Crowley mumbled something depressing about listing sins to repent of and shuffled out of the room. Dean silently wished for a more upbeat and snarky Crowley.

He removed Sam's one remaining shoe, then checked his temperature. It was 103, high, but not high enough for another ice bath, thankfully. He laid a blanket over him, taking the time to check to make sure it covered his feet. He had gone out and bought extra long sheets and blankets for Sam shortly after the second trial. He figured cold feet wouldn't help the whole sickness thing.

He found a washcloth from the clean laundry and wet it and stuck it across his forehead. Sam would have been a bit mortified, but he didn't really care. Lastly, Dean grabbed the other shoe from the stairs and brought it inside. He sat both shoes side by side inside the closet. Sam's room was plain, no decoration or clutter, and everything was extremely neat. He felt like the shoes would be noticed if they weren't put away properly.

"Alright, you keep on sleeping and breathing. I'm gonna go... hell, I don't know. Try to put some of this back together, I guess." Dean called into the room on his way out. There was a ball of raw panic building inside his chest, and it tried to make breathing hard for a second. But he told himself that he could still fix everything, that he always could. The panic subdued for the moment.

Crowley was already out again, slouched in a chair by the map table, when Dean got back to the main room. The lines under the demon's eyes were deep. He couldn't remember ever having seen a demon look so tired.

He grabbed Sam's laptop and took a seat across the table from the demon. He flipped the thing open and didn't wait for it to boot up entirely before bringing up the CNN homepage. It was only then that he remembered his phone had died sometime the night before. He glanced at the page before standing to find the charger. Mostly reports of strange shooting stars and the property damage they caused. No reports of people falling from the sky, at least. He'd probably have to check some the sketchier news agencies for that.

He plugged in his durable old flip phone and waited for it to come back to life. As soon as the little screen lit up, the phone started vibrating ceaselessly. Missed call after missed call after voicemail poured in, and he groaned. He flipped through the list, but before he could get far in, the phone started to ring. It was Charlie.

"Charlie? Hey, what's going on?" he answered, trying to make his voice sound light.

"I was calling to ask you the same thing. Dean, what was with that light show? The whole internet won't shut up about it." she asked. Dean heard the click of a keyboard over the phone.

"Oh, you know, more of the usual. Destruction, heaven itself falling out of the sky, nothing turning out right. Another Tuesday, you know." Dean tried to laugh, but it came out a bit hysterical.

"How bad are things?" Charlie's concern practically seeped out of the receiver.

"Um, pretty bad. We got double-crossed. Again. Cas might have been involved, or he might even be dead. I don't have any idea where he is, and I'm worried. But I don't know what to do. And Sam..." Dean paused.

"How is he?" Charlie asked, her voice soft and understanding. The last time she had seen Sam had been after the second trial.

"Bad." Dean admitted. "You saw how sick he was before. That last trial was gonna kill him. None of us knew and I was just gonna let 'em do it. I even left him there by himself. I stopped him in time, I thought, but things don't look good. I don't know how to help him." he felt the panic building up inside his throat again.

"Dean, I'm coming over. I'll pack and head out in about an hour. It'll take me awhile to get there, so promise me something, okay?" he could hear Charlie already up and packing in the background.

"What?" he asked.

"Promise that you'll stay there and look after your brother. And yourself. I know things are looking bad, but just worry about yourselves for a moment. We'll get this thing figured out." Charlie ordered, her voice kind.

"Y-yeah, we'll just hole up here for a while until there's something we can actually do. Thanks, Charlie." They both hung up, and Dean collapsed back into the chair, huffing. He went back to scanning the CNN website.

He was out before he could make it through three reports.

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**I'm excited about writing the next chapter. I wanna really crank up the action soon!**


	3. Back to Blood Part 1

***I don't own Supernatural. All rights to the show and characters belong to their respective owners.***

**So much for naming things after songs. Whoops.**

**Just a warning, you might hate me a bit for the next few chapters. I don't know how I came up with something so diabolical, but it's gone hurt, bitches. Especially if you're a Sam fan. Don't worry if you like Cas more, though. Shits about to go down with him, too. Hahahaha...**

**Also, I start back working full time hours next week, so the speedy updates might slow down a bit from here on out. And I got some other shit I gotta do but I'm not gonna list it here because it would need it's own separate essay.**

**I hope you enjoy! Review if you got the time! I would love to talk to people about predictions and stuff :D I'm a lonely individual lol. Thank you, Sammygirl321 and whoever you are, anon, for reviewing before! We can all endure the tears and pain of waiting for season 9 together, Sammygirl. You guys' reviews made me want to write the next chapter, so thank you!  
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Sam Winchester and pain were well-acquainted. It might have even been that they were old friends. After all, pain had been the only thing real to him not too long ago. When he was questioning everything he felt and saw, he knew pain's face as soon as it presented itself. And pain was one of the most normal parts of his life. Sam had always longed for normalcy, and pain was something most people experienced. Sure, maybe their pain wasn't due to special torture treatment from Satan himself. You took any hint of normalcy where you could get it if you were a Winchester, though.

It was because of this that Sam knew he was in deep trouble as soon as he returned to consciousness. This pain was something new. It was the burn of fire trying to break free from underneath the skin. It was the pressure and squirm of something horrific fighting inside his chest. And it was the first and only thing he was aware of.

There's something fluid about returning to wakefulness. To Sam, it was like trying to stay afloat in dark water, some hand pulling you back under every minute or so. And just like trying to fight to stay surfaced, it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

He finally got control of his eyes and forced them open. They were so heavy. The room was blurred around him. It was _his _room. The little space he had chosen at the Men of Letters' bunker. It wasn't much, and he hadn't really made it his own. Sam no longer bothered to make himself at home anywhere. Every home he had made had been torn away from him. There wasn't much point to try again.

Even so, something inside him warmed in appreciation. If he was here, Dean had brought him here. Had taken care of him. He smiled, despite the overwhelming pain building in his chest. Dean taking care of him was the only thing he had close to a home.

"D'n" he mumbled, hoping his brother was nearby. He remembered the panicked look on Dean's face back at the church. The lights in the sky. What was it he had said? Something about angels, but his mind was too fuzzy. He couldn't remember anything much besides the pain, Dean at his side, and the Impala at his back. Where was Dean now? What was going on outside? And where were Crowley and Castiel and Kevin? His breathing sped up. He couldn't stay in this bed. No matter how much pain he was in, he couldn't stay here. He needed to know what was going on.

Sam pushed himself into a siting position. He had to use both hands. That was new. The black spots erupting in front of his eyes were new, too. Ignoring them, he used what little momentum he achieved to stand. The room tilted around him, then his vision went entirely black. The pain that had taken up residence in his chest stabbed and squirmed. He couldn't breathe.

_"...you'll die!"_

_ "So?"_

"Dean." Sam gasped. He had not cared about dying before. But Dean had not wanted him to die. And that was why he needed to stay alive now. He had to make sure Dean had made it back okay.

He concentrated on breathing. Each inhalation hurt, but that didn't matter. Breathing would make everything better. The room slowly came back, the black seeping away. He was on the floor now beside his bed, holding the blanket in a death grip. It was the only thing that had kept him sitting upright.

Legs shaking, he struggled back to his feet. The room tilted and spun again, but he screwed his eyes shut and ignored it. Once things finally steadied, he took a few careful steps. Yep, he was definitely gonna need something for support. The wall would have to do. He worked his way out of his room and down the hall, bracing himself against the wall. By the time he was at the main control room, his legs seemed strong enough to support him on their own.

"Dean!" he called, his voice raspy. Too raspy. He sounded god awful, even to himself.

Dean didn't respond, but then again, he probably hadn't heard him. He shuffled into the room and saw him, asleep and slumped over the table. He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Seeing Dean not only in one piece, but resting, almost fixed things. Sam had been in terrible shape lately. When Sam was in trouble, Dean did not rest. Never had, ever since Sam's first case of pneumonia as a toddler.

Sam smiled to himself, then began the long trek to Dean's room. He was out of breath by the time he got there. He grabbed the blanket from the bed and drug it back to the main room. He draped it over Dean, while simultaneously trying to avoid falling on top of him. The whole thing took much more effort than it should have, and his chest felt like it might explode by the time he finished.

He wanted more than anything to collapse into the chair beside Dean. To fall back asleep and pretend nothing else was going on. Nothing else, besides what Sam knew was happening to himself. The inevitable thing that was happening inside his own veins.

He didn't expect to wake up tomorrow morning. He had died before. Maybe never this slowly, but he knew what it felt like.

There was something else he needed to see. Last night, he had thought the world was ending. He really needed to see the outside of the bunker, to make sure the world really hadn't ended. To see sunlight.

_Might be the last sunlight you see._

He shook the thought away, stumbling towards the door. He clung to the rails as he climbed the stairs. His legs shook violently, then the rest of his body began to shake as well. He started into another coughing fit, but he didn't have a free hand to catch the blood that came with the cough. It dribbled out of his mouth onto the stairs. He would have to take care of that in a minute. Right now, he had to make it outside because he needed just this one, last thing.

He made it to the door and eased it open. Sunlight shafted in around the edges. He stepped out and was momentarily blinded. On the outside, it was still early morning and the sun was bright. The forest surrounding the bunker was still intact. No burning earth or dead bodies as far as he saw. Birds were even chirping. So, the world hadn't ended. That was a small win, he guessed.

He stepped further out into the light and took as deep a breath as the pain in his chest would allow. For a moment, he was grateful just to be outside and alive.

Then the door to the bunker slammed shut behind him.

"You don't look so good, Winchester." a cold, female voice greeted him. He whipped around, searching for the source of the voice. A tall woman with auburn hair and dark eyes was leaning against the Impala.

"Who..." he didn't get to finish the question. His cough chose that moment to come back in full force. He leaned back against the door, blood running down his chin and into his hands.

"You'd remember my face, if you hadn't torched it." the woman said, the corners of her mouth twitching. She paused for a moment, gazing at the blood. "Really, you're making this way too simple. I don't even need to lift a finger.".

"Abaddon." Sam managed to gasp. He turned quickly to pound on the door. "Dean, open u-" he began to call.

"Doesn't mean I won't lift a finger, though." Abaddon purred. She lifted a whole hand, and Sam was flung against the door. An invisible hand wrapped its way around his neck. He gagged.

"Big brother can't save you." she was smiling, so wide it looked like her face might split.

"_Like one of the Leviathans. She's gonna open up and eat me." _his oxygen deprived mind told him.

"How about I put you out of your misery for a bit, hm?" she asked with a chuckle.

Before he could fully realize what was happening, Sam was thrown against the ground. He felt his own head bounce against the cement on his lifeless neck, saw lights flash, then was out completely.

**xXx**

Dean's neck and shoulders hurt. He was getting tired of this shit. Used to be, he could fall asleep on the floor of the backseat of the Impala and wake up barely sore. Now just sleeping slumped over a table made him ache all over. This sucked.

Wait, he wasn't supposed to be sleeping at all. There was way too much going on for him to sleep. Sam...

He shot upright, accidentally knocking the laptop over. He righted it and checked the time. Twelve.

"Shit." he muttered. It had been six hours since he had last checked on Sam. Not good. He jumped out of the chair, not noticing the blanket that had miraculously draped itself over him.

He rushed to Sam's room, but remembered to step inside quietly. Just in case Sam was asleep. It turned up to be a wasted gesture, as Sam was no where to be seen. He checked the adjacent bathroom, even glancing behind the shower curtain in his panic.

"Sam!" he roared as he dashed back through the bunker. He tried to keep the panic from changing his voice. He checked the library, the kitchen, every bedroom. Hell, he even checked their dungeon, just to be sure.

"Sam, where the hell are you?!" he called again as he reentered the main room.

"Wha..." he heard Crowley mumble behind him. He didn't have time to listen. He was already rushing up the stairs to the balcony. Until he slipped on something and fell on his face. He heard Crowley snicker below. Okay, so maybe the demon still had a little evil inside him.

He reached down to the step he had slipped on. There was something wet there. He touched it (against his better judgement) and his hand came back sticky and red.

"S-Sam!" he gasped, his voice cracking. He scrambled to his feet and up the last few stairs. He tore open the door to the outside.

He wheeled around in front of the door, searching the surrounding forest. Everything looked just like it had. The Impala was still there. Fucking birds were even chirping. But there was no Sam.

He lifted his boot to take the stairs down, but it made a strange noise coming up. He had stepped in something sticky. He glanced down and felt the blood drain out of his face.

A small pool of blood was seeping into the cement.

"Sammy, come on, answer me!" he called. The call just echoed back at him in the deathly quiet forest. He was breathing much harder than usual.

The door opened behind him. Crowley gazed out at him, a funny expression on his face. It took Dean a minute to place that expression. It was a mixture of concern, fear, and _sorrow,_ of all things. It was an expression he had never seen him wear.

There was a phone pressed to Crowley's ear.

"Why do you have that?" Dean mumbled, going numb.

"You're going to want to take this call." Crowley extended the phone towards him.

**TBC**

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**Hope you guys like cliffhangers! Thanks for reading!**


	4. Back to Blood Part 2

**Okay, quick update before I go to work! I wanted to get something new up because I've had some really sweet reviews lately. Thank you, Moydra and elektra56765! You guys are awesome and I'm glad you're into the story!**

**I also had to get this chapter done quickly because my 11 year old sister is now addicted to this story. Might have been a bad idea to let her read it haha. She started hitting me as soon as she found out what I planned to do with this story.**

**Anyways, hope you guys enjoy! Drop me a review if you got the time. I really like reading peoples' reactions and it helps me galvanize myself to write more :D**

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"Hey, Mr. Winchester, wake up. You havin' some kinda awful nightmare."

Cas was rudely awoken by a shake at his shoulder. He jumped, startled.

"I don't know what you was dreaming about, but it had you shook up." Bill grunted, eyes fixated on the road. It was daylight now. Cas couldn't remember having fallen asleep. He was pretty alarmed that he had fallen asleep at all.

He also couldn't remember what he had dreamed about, but the dread from the dream still clung to him.

"What time is it?" he asked, voice gruff.

"One PM. You seemed like you was pretty damn tired, so I let you sleep on through the morning." Bill replied, glancing over to smile at Cas. Cas smiled back, but the smile didn't make it to his eyes.

So much time had already passed. He needed to find Sam and Dean soon. He wanted to believe they were fine, and he wanted so badly to just fly to them. Even to hear Dean praying to him for help would be better than this silence and worry.

_"Take me to him."_

The fear on Dean's face. That had hurt. But he had been so certain Naomi was lying. He had to look after his own kind, and if that meant leaving Dean and Sam, he would have to accept it. That was what had been looping in his mind last night.

Now he knew how wrong he had been. All he had done was ruin things again. So many of his family had died because of him. And now they had all been cast out of their home. All because of him.

And Sam...

He sighed, rubbing a hand across his eyes. Cas had been the only angel in the garrison to hold out so much hope for humanity. He was always the most hopeful in any situation. But even he had to admit that Sam Winchester was most likely dead.

_And Dean is most likely an empty man..._

He made himself not travel down that line of thought.

"You still in there, buddy?" he heard Bill ask.

"Y-yes, just thinking." Cas replied.

"I won't ask 'bout what. You got that look." Bill said.

Cas didn't quite get what he meant by 'look', but he nodded and thanked him.

"So, did you see them lights last night? The falling stars?" Bill asked, an excited grin lighting up his face.

Cas froze. There was an ache in the back of his throat.

"Y-yes, I saw them." he answered. He noticed how small and wobbly his own voice sounded.

"Helluva a show, man." Bill laughed "Kinda made the night a lot more interesting."

He nodded once, quickly. He stared out the window without really seeing anything. He felt like he was drowning.

**xXx**

The demon that had taken up residence inside the truck driver was a mid-level demon, at best. And that was why he was so excited about the opportunity that had presented itself to him. To have a fallen angel riding shotgun, let alone the Winchesters' pet angel, was a huge deal. He would earn major brownie points with the new boss for this one.

Of course, she wasn't quite the new boss yet. First, she would need to take out the old boss. But really, after what the youngest Winchester brat had done to him, anybody could take out that bloated scotsman.

The angel looked as if he might cry after 'Bill's' last remark. He wanted to laugh out loud. He wasn't sure how he would go about killing him. He wanted to wait until he thought of something particularly creative. He could have some fun with him before then, though. These little land mine comments were really messing with him.

**xXx**

Charlie Bradbury used to get scared easily. She had learned the hard way, however, to deal with that fear. As it turns out, fear could be channeled into useful things, like not getting killed. She had learned that lesson recently, thanks to a certain pair of brothers.

That was the only way she was handling this situation. As her car hurtled down the interstate, she kept reminding herself that just because things were scary didn't mean they were totally hopeless.

She kept asking herself what Dean would do. He felt like her older brother now. Sam too, really. And she was cool with that. They made for some pretty cool family, if maybe a little crazy. She could usually handle crazy. Right now, however, she was worried about them.

"Hold on, Dean." she mumbled to herself. She took a long draw from the straw of the coke she had bought to calm her nerves.

"Hold on, Sam." she mumbled to herself, even quieter.

She had told Dean they would figure it out together. She wanted to keep her promise, but that would require a favor from Sam, first.

"You better keep it together until I get there." she felt her bottom lip quiver. She had told him he would be alright. That he was tough in the books so he should of course be able to make it through this. She couldn't believe how distant the books had made every crisis feel. Now that she was a part of it, things were completely different. For the first time in a long time, she was truly scared again, and she didn't feel like there was anything she could channel that fear into. It was that helpless sort of fear she had suffered from as a kid, only all grown up and even worse.

She never noticed the small car trailing her own. It was a fairly innocuous car, a Kia Prius. Not the sort of car to strike fear into one's heart. But it followed her all the way to Lebanon. And if she had known what was behind the wheel, she would've been very afraid.

**xXx**

"That's my phone. Who are you talking to on my phone?" Dean demanded of Crowley. He glanced at the screen before putting it to his ear. It said 'Sam' in blue letters.

"Sam?" he asked, pressing the phone against his ear with a shaking hand.

"Not quite." some woman laughed on the other end. Definitely not Sammy.

"How the hell did you get that phone?! You should not have that phone." he growled, hoping the woman didn't notice the panic that was trying to creep up his throat.

"_I borrowed it. _How do you think, asshole?" she sneered.

"W-who is this? Where's Sam?"

"This is someone you really should remember, and Sam is in what you might call 'a world of hurt'." Dean could almost hear the smirk spreading across her teeth.

"You touch him, I swear to god, I will..." he began.

"Hey now, don't get too excited. You can talk to him if you like. He hasn't been very chatty, but I think we can get him to come around if we work together." he heard the background noise of the woman moving the phone from her own ear to someone else's.

"D-Dean." Sam spoke barely over a whisper.

"Sammy, it's gonna be okay. We're getting you out of there." he reassured.

"Dean, don't come! It's A-" Sam began to beg frantically, but was cut of by the sound of his own yell. Something on the other end was hurting him, and hurting him bad.

Dean endured a few moments of listening to Sam's moans and heavy breathing. Then, the female voice returned.

"You'll understand if Sam can't talk any longer. Seeing as how he literally can't talk any longer." she sighed.

"Listen here, hell-bitch. I may not know who you are, but we will find you. And when we find you, you will wish you had never crawled out of that hole. And then I'm bringing my brother home." his voice did not shake. It stayed level and cold because that was the person he needed to be to save Sam.

"Who's this we? You mean you and Crowley? I didn't think you were pals."

"We're not." Dean glanced at the king of hell.

"Good. Well, how about you just bring him to me, and I'll give you back your precious Sam. No need to look too hard for me. I'm in Phillipsburg, abandoned barn on the outskirts of town. Bring me Crowley or no deal. See you!"

"Wait, no!" but it was too late. The call ended. "Shit!" Dean snapped the phone shut. "Car, now!" he ordered Crowley. Crowley followed obediently, but paused at the door to the passenger side.

"So, you are going to exchange my life for Sam's?" he looked down at the ground as he addressed Dean.

"What? Who said anything about..." Dean tried to dodge around his question.

"Dean, I am the king of hell. I can listen in on your phone calls rather easily. Particularly when you're standing right in front of me."

"Crowley, I... you understand I can't let her kill him. I'm sorry, I know you've changed, but if you don't get in this car, I'll put you in this car." Dean tried to plead with him. Maybe new Crowley, with all that freaky humility shit, would get it.

"Don't worry. I'm coming willingly. I owe your brother, and I intend to make good on that debt. I just want you to understand that. I won't let you trick me into helping you, but I will help you." Crowley finally glanced back up to look Dean dead in the eyes.

He paused for a moment, staring back at him. He searched the demon's face. There was an honesty there that Dean had never seen before. He nodded.

"Thank you." he said quietly.

Crowley merely nodded in response, then ducked into the Impala.

Dean climbed inside after him, thinking that somehow he had entered the longest day of his life.

**xXx**

Sam really didn't want to be awake. His fear was keeping him awake, he knew, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. Every moment awake was more pain. Not only pain from the thing that was killing him, but the new pain that Abaddon had inflicted. He wanted to sleep so bad. But the fear for his brother kept him awake.

The small comfort he had found in all of this was that Dean would still be alive at the end of the day. Sam might die, the world might be on the brink of collapse again, and Dean might be left all alone to fix things, but at least he would be alive. Now that one little thing was even being taken from him. And this bitch was going to make him watch while she took it.

"J-just k-kill me." he gasped, glaring at the demon "Leave D-Dean out of this."

"Nice try, but you and I both know you're a goner already, Winchester. Kudos for having made it this far, by the way." she smiled. Her teeth were just as white and straight as the first vessel's had been.

"Why?" he managed to ask, before another fit of coughs wracked his whole body. More blood trickled past his lips.

"Why what? Why am I doing this?" she leaned in close, whispering into his ear, teeth still bared into a smile "Because your kind, you and your brother, have been making my life difficult for the last few hundred years. But mostly because your attractive brother will look even better with his eyes torn out of his head." she pulled back a bit to look him dead in the eyes. Sam seized the opportunity to spit a mixture of blood and saliva into her face.

Abaddon blinked once, twice, then seized his hand. She pulled out the finger beside the one she had already broken. She grabbed the hammer she had left sitting beside the chair and slammed it into the finger, repeatedly, until she heard the telltale crack of broken bone.

"See, this is why you and your brother are so bad at making friends." she hissed.

Sam only had to endure the new break for a short time. He yelled until he thought his throat might tear. But the pain in his chest was still constricting his breathing, and he couldn't pull back in as much air as he needed. Black spots erupted in front of his eyes, his ears started ringing. He passed out, grateful as all the pain faded away.

Abaddon wiped the blood and spit off with the back of her hand disdainfully. She glared at him. He had passed out again. She'd have to wake him again later to break a few more fingers. She was going to get as much enjoyment out of this as she could, after all.

**xXx**

The car ride was understandably quiet. Dean wondered what you said to the guy who knew you had planned to betray him. Small talk didn't really seem to be much of an option, which was bad, because he really needed it.

Every time he felt like his chest was opening up a little, he would think of Sam, and it was hard to breath again. He couldn't lose him. He would be alone, completely. He thought of Cas, but Cas was missing once again. Or dead. Oh god, please don't let him be dead. He couldn't take that either.

He glanced at his watch. It was 12:55. They were still miles away from Phillipsburg. This was taking too long. He needed to talk to someone. Even if they might not hear him.

He wasn't about to pray out loud in front of Crowley. Oh no, even reformed Crowley would never let him hear the end of that. He let what he needed to say form into words and sentences in his mind.

_"Cas, you probably can't hear me. I sure as hell hope you can, for your sake and mine. If you can hear me by some miracle, man, I need your help. Bad. Something's got Sam. He was in bad shape before, but whatever this thing is, it's making it worse. Please, you've got to take care of him. I need you to do this for me if you're still out there somewhere. He's the only family I've got left."_

Dean knew it was pointless, but just talking to his absentee friend made him feel better. It made him feel like he was doing something, even if he really wasn't.

He glared out of the windshield for a moment longer, then check his watch again. One PM. It was going to be a really long drive.

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**Hope you enjoyed it, and thank you again for reading! I'm gonna try to wrap up this part of the story next chapter!  
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